


say it after me (it's no better to be safe than sorry)

by feistymuffin



Series: Accidental Alpha [2]
Category: JackSepticEye (YouTube RPF), Markiplier (YouTube RPF), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Even though it's kind of not, First Time, M/M, Sexual Content, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 20:22:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11516751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feistymuffin/pseuds/feistymuffin
Summary: “Listen, alright?” the omega says gently. “Do you remember what you said to me, the mornin’ we bonded for the first time?”He said a lot of things, but Mark knows with certainty what Jack is referring to. “I said I couldn’t ever hurt you.”“Right,” Jack murmurs. He brushes Mark’s hair back from his forehead. “And you never have, and there’s a pretty confident part of me that thinks you never will.”





	say it after me (it's no better to be safe than sorry)

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place after the hospital scene but before the epilogue scene in Dying Embers and Warm Paws.
> 
> By popular demand (including friends who cursed me for not delivering on all the sexual tension in DEaWP) I give you, smut!

“For the absolute, last fuckin’ time, I was not flirtin’ with the fuckin’ waiter!” Jack slams the door behind them, tossing his keys into the dish on the hall table and throwing his coat to the floor. “Do you fuckin’ listen when I talk? How many more times do I have to say it?”

“You said more to him than you did to me all goddamn night,” Mark snaps. He storms into the apartment and stops in the living room, pacing like a caged animal between the couch and the coffee table as he seeks out something to strangle. He makes himself stop so he can look Jack in the face. “If you just told me you were mad at me, that you didn’t want to go out—”

Jack scoffs, irking Mark’s face into a tepid scowl. He passes Mark by to walk stonily into the dark kitchen, not even bothering to turn on the light, and grabs the half-empty bottle of Red Hood off the top of the fridge. Mark can still see him clearly through the gloom, aided by his lycan night vision. “At what point would you have stopped and actually listened to me, if I had said anythin’?” He screws the top off the bottle and takes a swig of the aconite spiced rum directly from the bottle, staring angrily into the space over left Mark’s shoulder.

“I always listen to you,” Mark argues at once. “And don’t change the subject! Why was our waiter so much more fascinating than me, your _mate_?”

It seems to give Jack pause, and Mark takes the time to actually notice something. He’s shaking where he has the bottle gripped in his fist, but Mark’s not sure if the shaking is based in anger or something else that fuelled it. 

Furious silence stews briefly in the room before bubbling over into Jack’s shouted, “I should ask you the same damn thing! What good am I as a mate if you don’t, I don’t know, do more than just fall asleep on me after you finger me or blow me?” He seethes for a moment, then turns hard eyes on Mark’s gobsmacked expression. “What good am I as a mate, as a partner, if you won’t actually let me have sex with you?”

“I…” Mark doesn’t even know what he’s going to say when he starts speaking, but it doesn’t stop him from feeling the guilt to the soles of his feet. Jack has noticed, and after much less time than Mark was anticipating, that Mark won’t let him reciprocate the things Mark does to him. 

But what had he honestly been expecting? That Jack wouldn’t get red flags when Mark purposefully fell asleep as fast as possible after every interlude? That Jack would somehow brush off the fact that Mark shies away when Jack goes to touch him when they’re intimate? Jack is far from stupid, and Mark hasn’t been doing his utmost to prevent Jack from seeing how fucked up he is over what he feels whenever Jack touches him.

“I…” Mark tries again, but he still doesn’t know what to say. How does he explain that he’s so afraid of himself and what he’s capable of doing when Jack’s firework fingers start to burn him up?

Jack’s mouth twists into a grimace, bitter acceptance cascaded over his features. “You can’t even defend yourself,” he says neutrally. “Because I’m right.”

Mark doesn’t say anything as he looks down at the floor, doesn’t try arguing about why he does what he does. He knows what he’s doing is shitty, and horrible of him to do to his partner. Shame is already eating him alive, drizzled with Jack’s disgust.

“What I don’t get,” Jack continues, and it’s more conversational than before, if still angry, “is why you’re not lettin’ me touch you when I know you’re still just as nuts for me as you’ve always been.”

The alpha’s eyes flick up at the sound of the bottle touching down on the counter. Jack comes up to him and slides his palms over the backs of Mark’s hands. From there Jack draws them up his forearms, over his elbows with a gentle brush of fingers, and curls his hands up and around his biceps to stop at Mark’s shoulders. 

“I’m mad at you,” Jack says quietly, “but not for the reason you probably think.”

Mark swallows and lifts his hands to clasp around Jack’s wrists. “Why are you mad at me?”

“Because you won’t tell me what’s wrong, and you tried to hide it from me,” Jack murmurs. “You don’t trust me enough to just tell me the truth.”

“I trust you more than anyone,” Mark argues at once, but Jack scowls darkly at him and he closes his mouth. 

“Then you need to tell me what the hell is goin’ on,” the Irishman demands. His face crumples slightly. “What—what did I do that you won’t let me—”

“No! No, you—God, you didn’t do anything, this is my fault,” Mark blurts hurriedly. His hands tense, and he forcibly removes them from his mate’s arms. “I just, I can’t…”

“You can’t what?” Jack says softly. “Tell me, Mark. Please.” His pale hands cup Mark’s face as he steps closer, nullifying the empty space between them.

Helplessly Mark leans forward until his forehead touches Jack’s. He shuts his eyes and lets the guilt consume him. “I wouldn’t have stopped.”

“Stopped what?” his mate asks, hushed in the darkness of the kitchen. 

“At the club, last month, when…” He takes a small breath in, steeling himself. “When you were drugged. And we were in the bathroom. I was so insane for you, I wouldn’t have stopped. Even if you told me to. Even if you begged me.”

Jack’s small huff of laughter makes Mark pull back to watch his face. His mate smiles at him as if he’s the dumbest werewolf imaginable, which may not be far from the truth. “There was no possible way that I would have wanted you to stop. Just the smell of you then was enough to make me come in less than a minute. Those drugs made me put out some serious pheromones, so your lack of control would be expected. Stoppin’ would have never been on the agenda for either of us.”

“But if you had needed me to,” Mark stresses tensely, his eyes down and his fingers clenched into fists at his sides. “If… if I got… rough, you would be in danger.”

“Oh, Mark,” he says, and his voice is so relieved that Mark looks up again. Jack’s face is radiant. “Is that all? Really?”

“Uh, yes. This, uh, isn’t exactly the reaction I was expecting,” Mark murmurs.

“I can’t believe I’m actually havin’ to explain this,” Jack chuckles to himself. He loops both arms around Mark’s neck and drives him backwards until his back hits the fridge. “Felix and Marzia broke three beds and a dresser before they managed to have sex without trashin’ their bedroom.”

While interesting and fairly funny, Mark isn’t exactly seeing his train of thought. “That’s… nice.”

Jack smirks at him and pulls him close, then drags his body in a slow wave all along Mark’s. “Mark, if you lose control, that’s what’ll happen. We’ll break the bed.” He looks into the alpha’s eyes, light blue piercing through him like an icy wind. “ _We’ll_ break the bed, baby. You wouldn’t break me, because if you lost control then I’d be right behind you. And then we’d probably have the greatest sex of our lives.”

“And if I grab you too hard?” Mark says irritably. “Or I pin you, or I go too far too fast? What logical reaction do you think you’ll get out of me if I’m totally without reason?”

“Listen, alright?” the omega says gently. “Do you remember what you said to me, the mornin’ we bonded for the first time?”

He said a lot of things, but Mark knows with certainty what Jack is referring to. “I said I couldn’t ever hurt you.”

“Right,” Jack murmurs. He brushes Mark’s hair back from his forehead. “And you never have, and there’s a pretty confident part of me that thinks you never will.”

“You’ve got a lot more faith than me,” Mark tells him with a sigh.

“I can prove it to you,” Jack says, and there’s a tinge of desperation in the words now as he gently kisses him. “I can prove it, please, Mark.” His hands pull at Mark’s clothes, and over the lingering scents of anger and pain Mark can clearly smell Jack’s arousal intensifying. 

Mark is not equipped to argue with that voice. “If I hurt you at all, even for a second, we’re stopping,” he says firmly. It’s a final grasping attempt at soothing his fear of the absolute worst possible scenario, but hearing himself say the words out loud makes him believe that he might have the willpower to stop when—if—he needs to.

“You worry wolf,” Jack teases, and takes Mark’s hand to lead him to the bedroom—Mark’s bedroom, which has quickly become Jack’s as well in the past several weeks. His clothes, dirty and clean alike, are liberally dotted around the room. There’s a haphazard trail of orphaned socks leading directly to the en suite, where Jack likes to take long, hot showers under the rainfall shower head. In the living room, Mark knows there’s at least five books on various surfaces of even more various genres. He’s taken over an entire shelf in the fridge with leftovers of meals he’s cooked, Mark watching him move gracefully throughout his kitchen as if he belongs there, has belonged there for years. His shampoo and body wash are both in the shower, his toothbrush, shaving cream and razor by the bathroom sink.

The need rises in him slowly, steadily like a filling basin. Jack sits on the bed’s edge and pulls Mark to sit beside him, and in the dimness backlit by the street lamps outside the windows Jack’s face is just barely illuminated, casting it in an ethereal, shadowy glow that makes Mark ache with emotion. 

“You’re so beautiful.” It’s corny to say it, Mark knows, but it’s true and it makes Jack smile like Mark has done something unbelievably kind. He cups a hand at Jack’s jaw and pulls him in for a kiss, and he’s content to slowly familiarize himself with the mouth he already knows so well. It’s too slow for Jack, though, who tugs a lock of Mark’s hair and throws a leg across his mate to straddle his lap.

“Let’s get this show on the road, babe,” Jack murmurs into his mouth, smiling. He delves inside, claiming everything he touches, and Mark gives as good as he gets. Jack pushes him onto his back and Mark realizes why a moment later when he starts rubbing himself along Mark’s front, steady rolls of his body that set fires in their wake. 

Mark hums deeply, feeling the passion of Jack’s seeking tongue and eager body like a douse of hot water, and rolls them over. One-handed he starts divesting Jack of his slacks, expensive clothes for their botched night out, and keeps Jack fixated to the mattress by giving him all of his considerable weight. 

Jack’s throaty groan resonates through Mark in a ripple of sensation. It’s not something he’d like to be blamed for, the way he grabs Jack’s pants and pulls them off so fast that he hears the tearing of seams, but the omega doesn’t seem to mind. Rather, his eyes are lit with desire, egging Mark on and making his hands shake while he undoes Jack’s button-down shirt.

“Relax,” Jack soothes. His hands stroke down Mark’s chest and return the favour, unbuttoning his shirt. “It’s just us.” He smoothes his palms over Mark’s shoulders as he eases the garment off, letting it fall to the floor. “Just you and me.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” the alpha replies softly. He tugs Jack’s shirt from his body and sends it along the same path as his pants, to the floor. Already Mark feels heat blossoming inside himself, feeding the physical need that he’s been denying as he stares ravenously at Jack’s uncovered body. “I’m… I don’t think I’m going to be…”

With a wry smile Jack gets off the bed to step out of his socks and boxers then comes right back, gluing himself along Mark’s front. Mark groans at the hard length pressing into his hip, fever flooding over his chest when Jack licks a stripe up the side of his neck and roams his hands down to Mark’s zipper. “You’re okay,” Jack murmurs, lips at his ear. “You won’t hurt me. Say it.”

“I won’t hurt you,” Mark almost whimpers, because he still doesn’t believe it. His hands rest at the small of Jack’s back and his waist, and as Jack pushes his pants and boxer briefs down his thighs he feels the first real twinge of primality course through him. He’s grabbing Jack’s wrists before he realizes, rolling them again to pin Jack beneath him, against the mattress with his arms over his head. 

But Jack isn’t worried, or even mildly concerned. He lifts his hips into Mark’s and it’s enough to make them both moan at the skin-on-skin friction. “Get those off,” Jack says, nodding to Mark’s pants. “And tell me again.”

Mark has to make himself let Jack’s wrists go, and then he’s scrambling out of his clothes until he’s as completely nude as his mate. Excluding some pack nights when they all shift to go running, it’s the first time they’ve been naked together in the six weeks they’ve been dating—not for lack of Jack’s trying.

“I won’t hurt you,” Mark says again, and sighs into the kiss that Jack presses to his mouth. Something must tremble in his voice when he speaks because Jack doesn’t linger, and pulls back to look Mark in the eye.

“I love you,” Jack tell him gently. It’s not the first time he’s heard it, but every time feels like the first time. Mark’s heart slams against his ribs and he swallows again, trying to smother the mounting urge to lick Jack head to toe and then fuck him within an inch of his life. Jack’s confession really isn’t helping matters.

“I love you more,” Mark says, like he does every time. He wraps Jack up in his arms and squeezes him in a bruising hug, burying his face in the aromatic powerhouse under his jaw. “I love you so much. So much.”

Jack hums in agreement, arms around Mark’s neck and his cheek on Mark’s hair, and it vibrates through Mark’s lips. “Do you love me enough to give me what I need? Do you love me enough to trust me on this?”

Mark inhales hard through his nose, drinking in the ever-comforting scent that Jack just _is_ , and then lifts his head. “I trust you. God, I love you and I trust you, and I’m trusting you to know me better than I know myself, as usual.”

Jack leans back and plants a tender, feather-light kiss to Mark’s brow before drawing away to scoot across the bed and dig in one of the nightstand drawers. He comes back with a tube of lubricant and immediately plasters himself to Mark again and grinds greedily, moving their hips together and dragging his cock along the V of his groin. Jack bites his bottom lip and groans softly in pleasure, and Mark instantly leans up to replace his teeth, smashing their mouths together. 

Slowly the harsh kiss devolves into a lazy one, with petting and grinding in equal parts. Mark steadily moves Jack beneath him on his back, weighing him down and savouring the way Jack smiles under him when he slips a hand beneath Jack’s knees to spread his legs.

It's moot to think otherwise—Mark is apocalyptically in love with Jack, and nothing will change that—but seeing Jack flushed and spread out, scattered with beard burn along his face, neck and chest makes something in Mark sing, reminding him for the umpteenth that Jack chose him despite all his stigma against alphas. Jack let down his walls and invited Mark in. This is all theirs, this life that they're slowly building together, with trust and love and ambitions for the future. He tells himself to breathe evenly and takes the lube from where it rests nearby on the bed and uncaps it, drooling some onto his fingers and tossing it aside after he caps it again.

“Oh, yeah,” Jack groans at the breach of Mark’s first finger. He knows this and he’s done this plenty of times with Jack, but just like each time previously the farther he gets Jack prepared the hotter he gets, until he’s panting with the effort of not forcing himself on the omega.

Jack is mindless already, happily basking in the pleasure Mark is stroking him into. Mark bends when he’s got two fingers inside, takes Jack’s cock into his mouth and then moves in slow bobs, curling his fingers rhythmically to match his pace. At once Jack moans, loud and gasping, and his body undulates in time with Mark’s movements, his fingers digging into Mark’s hair.

“Yeah, baby, oh,” Jack keens, hips bucking, his mouth gaping open as he sucks in air. “Mark, come on, it’s enough, it’s enough.”

He pulls off and frowns up at Jack’s flushed face. “I haven’t even done three yet.” That hasn’t stopped him from getting so hard his dick could turn bedrock into powder.

“Werewolf,” Jack reminds him breathily, giving him a sultry look that speaks volumes on what’s entailed in sex of a lycanthropic variety. “No matter what you do, I’m goin’ to be tighter than anythin’ you’ve had before.” When Mark still visibly hesitates Jack murmurs with a small, indulgent smile, “I’m unbreakable by definition, big guy. Now show me what you’ve got.”

Mark chuckles into the soft, pale skin of his thigh, pressing a kiss there before straightening and aligning their hips, ignoring the peaking anxiety crashing through his chest. Before he can do anything else, though, Jack is rolling himself over and rising onto his hands and knees, adjusting his legs until they’re angled apart and his butt is presented invitingly to Mark.

“Tell me again,” Jack purrs, glancing over his shoulder with smouldering eyes. “Say it while you fuck me.”

Mark fumbles for the lube with hot, trembling hands, and his need only mounts as he quickly slicks his cock and tosses the tube aside again. He rises up on his knees and lines up, pushing the very tip of his cock against Jack’s ass.

Jack shivers violently and thrusts back against him suddenly, and then something in Mark snaps. It’s like the curtain of tranquility has been ripped aside to let in the aggressive sunlight. He watches his own hands move as the quick shock of ecstasy flies through him, and he grabs Jack’s hips with a snarl. Jack’s responsive whine only pushes him over the edge, and he’s slamming his hips to meet Jack’s body.

Mark doesn’t expect the guttural sound he makes when he bottoms out inside Jack, or the mewling, desperate howl that Jack lets out as he claws at the bedsheets. Jack wasn’t kidding—he’s tighter than anyone else he’s been with, and the feel of him is silky and intoxicating, all the smells in the room making Mark’s heart beat dangerously fast. “I won’t hurt you,” he growls, and draws his hips back. He thrusts back in to hear Jack make that sound again, and his mate doesn’t disappoint. Mark sets a brutal pace, hands like clamps on Jack’s waist to bring his slender body to meet the demanding movements of Mark’s.

“I won’t hurt you,” Mark pants, even as he knows that his grip is leaving finger-shaped bruises on Jack’s skin. 

“I know you won’t—I-I love you,” Jack moans, elbows collapsing to let his face and shoulders rest on the bed. The words are broken up by the sound of slapping flesh, jarred by Mark’s pistoning hips. “I love you, I love you—”

Jack’s declination of coherency sets free the last vestige of Mark’s inner demon, the undeniable part of him that he’s avoided for so long. He feels the rush of heat, and for a long, panicked second he’s afraid he’ll shift right there. But it brings no pain with it, no impression of alteration—only a tingling wake that creates its own disasters, amplifying what he’s already feeling emotionally and physically. “I won’t hurt you,” Mark forces out, and this time it’s really necessary for himself to hear it.

But even with his control Mark still speeds up, still slides a hand up Jack’s back to put it at the back of his neck and push down. Glaring against the pale ivory of his skin, Mark’s fingers leave behind a memory of their presence as dark blemishes on his waist.

“It’s fine,” Jack whines, as if sensing the infinitesimal hesitation. His face is turned to the side, fingers clenched into the blanket so hard that the fabric is ripping, and he has an eye on Mark. It’s dewy with moisture, and Mark is a millisecond away from stopping completely when Jack continues on a breathless moan, “Don’t fuckin’ stop, don’t you dare fuckin’ stop, I’m not hurt—” He cuts himself off and his eyes shut on a long, drawn out moan, high and strung out, and Mark’s attention is refocused from overanalyzing to getting Jack to make that noise again.

“You’re _mine_ ,” Mark snarls, and there’s need and fire in his voice. It’s not what he wanted to say but Jack’s response is a full-body shiver and a keen so loud that Mark is worried that his neighbours will actually call the police.

Below him Jack is trembling, hands unsteady where they clamber at the blanket. His back is bowed in an arch, ass high in the air to receive Mark’s thrusts, and his legs are shaking even worse than his hands. “Alpha,” he sobs, almost begging.

“What?” Mark asks, leaning down to rest his forehead between Jack’s shoulder blades. Just the one word sends shivers of his own down Mark’s spine, zinging through him like electric shocks. 

“Alpha… voice,” Jack gets out.

Of course, the first time Mark would actually manage to use something of his alpha powers on purpose, it’s by accident. He hesitates before letting the desire and all its heat rush though him again, putting power behind the words, “I won’t hurt you… because you belong to me.”

Jack sobs again and bites the pillow beneath his face, moaning pathetically through his teeth as Mark reaches around his hips to fondle his cock. It’s not a surprise when, moments later, Jack is clenching around him and spurting onto the bed, half-crying and half-moaning through his orgasm. The extra constriction around his cock is enough to send Mark over too, and as he thrusts erratically through a fog of fire he’s replacing his messy, open-mouthed kiss for a hard nip of human teeth at the base of Jack’s neck. The omega makes a pitiful, sensitive noise and jerks but doesn’t push him away.

They stay as they are, breathing for minutes before either one of them speaks.

“Before you even begin to guilt trip yourself,” Jack says casually, “please note that the bruises have already faded. On a side note, I’m so satisfied right now that I could probably be hit by a car and wouldn’t even feel it.”

“You know that doesn’t make sense,” Mark laughs, and rolls to Jack’s side to bring him close after he gently pulls out. Jack immediately snuggles into him and Mark puts his arms around him. “I’m sorry, though.”

Jack makes a sound of utter irritation. “What did I just—”

“I’m sorry for not letting you in,” Mark paves over him, and the omega falls silent. “I shouldn’t have kept it from you. I should’ve just told you, and you could’ve alleviated my fears ages ago.”

He feels Jack’s limp little shrug of one shoulder. “It would’ve been easier, in the long run. But I’m okay with this outcome, too.”

Mark kisses across Jack’s shoulder and up his neck, reaching down to tease a finger where Jack is soaked and still throbbing. His mate flinches and then hums low, pressing back into his touch. “You know,” Mark murmurs mischievously, “a werewolf’s refractory period is something I’d like to test in the field. Amy gave me a run-down and some statistics, but I think the data should be verified.”

Jack chuckles into his chest and replies, “Then what are you waitin’ for, Alpha?”

**Author's Note:**

> it figures that the first sequel i finish in years is practically pwp *sigh*


End file.
